


Holiday Celebration is the Mission

by pyromanicofthesea



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff galore, Gift Exchange, It's a winter wonderland, M/M, So Sweet It'll Rot Your Teeth, improper cooking of hotdogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 21:28:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13152390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyromanicofthesea/pseuds/pyromanicofthesea
Summary: Working during the holidays is a drag, but making the world a better place isn't an occupation that takes holidays off. You can still make the best of it all though.





	Holiday Celebration is the Mission

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElementalWolf98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElementalWolf98/gifts).



> This is for the lovely Wolfie, of whom I was Secret Santa to on the Roadrat Rides discord chat. Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it <3

It was the middle of December, and all they had gotten on base for the past month and a half was cold winds and overcast skies. Not even a hint at the potential of snow. And yet, it was nearing one in the morning, and Roadhog sat beside the window, watching the sky. Junkrat had told him he was crazy, that it wouldn’t snow here because here had Junkertown weather and there was no snow in Junkertown. He was right, of course, there never had been snow in the Outback. Even during June, even during the night, it got cold but not snow cold. But, up there in the sky over the base was not Junkertown weather, and if it would just rain, there would be snow coming down that night. Roadhog wondered for a moment how Junkrat would react to snow? Perhaps he would love it. Perhaps it would be too cold for the man who only ever wore shorts. Just shorts. Not that Roadhog had any room to talk, seeing as he had yet to wear something other than his old Junker clothes.  
It was strange to think of wearing something other than these tattered clothes, minorly irradiated from the air of the Outback. He wondered for a moment if he had been healthier, if his clothes would make him sick. Roadhog let out a low rumble of a laugh at the paradox it was, to not get sick while unhealthy, but to potentially become ill when healthy.

Junkrat woke up in the middle of the night to find Roadhog slumped over the window sill. He didn’t bother to check the time, or even to move the larger man. Instead he just stumbled over to the window to see what was so interesting that Roadhog would watch it all night. Outside of the window there were dark clouds, threatening a storm. But, there was no visible precipitation outside, only dark clouds and a slight wind. It made Junkrat a bit nervous, knowing a storm was approaching. Too much time in the Outback made it hard to shake the feeling that one bad storm could be devastating no matter what type of shelter you had. Deep down he knew he was safe in the base, knew that this was not Junkertown and this was not the Outback and one storm would not take down the entire base of operations, but still. Here he was, watching the sky as Roadhog had done several hours ago, but with different thoughts on his mind.  
Unable to go back to sleep, he clicked his prosthetics into place and decided to wander down the hall.  
He ended up in the kitchen, and lit the stove. He watched the small fire for a moment before checking the refrigerator for something to cook up. After staring at the fridge for awhile, he decided he wasn’t super hungry, and shut the door. He looked back at the little shove fire, and considered using it to cook a hotdog, but then looked back at the refrigerator door he just shut, and considered reconsidering.  
In the end, the hotdog met a fiery fate. Junkrat had taken the entire pack out of the refrigerator, and found a large metal poker to stick the meat onto. He then decided to climb up onto the counter, which proved to be a more difficult than expected task with one peg leg, and haunched over the stovetop to try and use the fire to roast the hotdog.  
After a little while, he realized this wasn’t working, and got a little more creative. Instead of, say, moving to a fireplace or finding a barbecue, Junkrat took a wooden carving board and set it ablaze atop the stove, and roasted the hotdog on that. It worked surprisingly well, and so that’s what he did to occupy his time. It took half the hotdog package to be sacrificed to the flames and his stomach before he became tired of them and thought about doing something else.  
After quite some time musing about what next to do, Junkrat decided to return to his room and attempt to sleep a bit longer. Sleep was not what he found. Instead, when he walked into the room, Roadhog whispered for him.  
“Commere,” was really all the man said, but it was all that needed to be said for Junkrat to be curious as to what else Roadhog would want to say. The large man was still sitting beside the window, where hours before he had fallen asleep watching the sky. Roadhog didn’t say anything else, instead pointing out the window.  
“Hm? The fuck’s out there that’s so impor- woah.” Spread out before Junkrat’s eyes was a blanket of white snow, stretching out to where the cliffside of base’s grounds. Snowflakes fluttered down in a gentle breeze from the sky, the worst of the brief storm long over. “Why’s it snowing in the middle of December?”  
“Northern Hemisphere,” Roadhog replied, smiling to himself at Junkrat’s surprise. “Christmas soon.”  
“Oh, right. Forget that’s celebrated here.” Junkrat continued to look outside. “Didn’t get you anything, by the way.” Roadhog snorted a laugh, but he didn’t say anything else. Eventually he went to bed, leaving Junkrat to watch the snow fall as the sun rose.

Later that day, Winston announced with rather reluctancy that there would be missions over the winter holidays. A few agents in particular seemed unhappy with this news, but it was business as usual after that. Junkrat went down to his workroom to test some new, essentially experimental explosives, and Roadhog did whatever a Roadhog does when there is no Junkrat to hang around. He knew better than to get in the way of Junkrat’s musings, and he was more than capable of taking advantage of the elusive peace and quiet when it presented itself.  
That evening, around dinner time, the mission groups were announced. Junkrat and Roadhog, along with Mei, Lena, Jesse, and the Orisa unit, were being sent to King’s Row, London. Lena was ecstatic at the news, and after the meeting made plans with Emily to have coffee the day before the mission objective started. Roadhog thought for a moment about buying Junkrat something for Christmas, but his thoughts were subsequently interrupted by Jesse McCree.  
“Alrigh’, partner, so here’s the deal,” he said, approaching Roadhog as if they had been childhood pals. “I’m going to run this by Miss Oxton, and I’m sure she’ll agree with me, but I need your help in convincing Junkrat to join in on this. We’re going to hold a gift exchange on the flight back from London.” Roadhog didn’t say anything, but nodded in response. McCree nodded in return, and took his leave. Roadhog looked over at Junkrat, who was laughing up a storm with Mei and her little snow bot. A gift exchange would be rather interesting.

Evidently, the idea went over a tad too well with Junkrat, and the energetic man was dead determined to find a gift for everyone on his current mission. He spent more time trying to figure out what to get everyone than he did playing attention to the mission objective. It annoyed Roadhog to no end, but it was endearing of some sorts as well. Though, the whole idea of a gift exchange was that one person got one other person a small item, not one person getting six other people a small item. And, knowing Junkrat and his affections, the items he would end up getting would be in no way small in price. Or, if Roadhog knew Junkrat as well as he did, not so legally obtained either. Still, the enthusiasm Junkrat showed was endearing.  
They drew names from McCree’s hat just before the flight landed. Written in messy, whipped-out penmanship was ‘Lena Oxton’ on the slip of paper Roadhog drew. He thought for a moment on what to get her. Admittedly, they had only spoken a few times outside of missions, so he didn’t know much about her. Beside Roadhog, Junkrat was reading over and over the name on his paper, bouncing with anticipation. On Junkrat’s slip of paper, in handwriting one would’ve thought would’ve been shit but was actually quite nice, was written ‘Roadhog’ in capital letters.

What was not as enjoyable as the thought of a gift exchange was how bloody freezing London was when they landed. Snow and ice covered the ground, and for once in his life Roadhog came quite close to regretting only wearing his pants out here. He looked over at Junkrat, who was just as bouncy as ever, and wondered how the man wasn’t freezing his ass off here.  
“Hey, does anyone have any mittens?” Junkrat’s voice was quieter than normal, but really not by much. Roadhog wondered for a moment if the other Junker was embarrassed to be affected by the cold. The sound of gunfire up ahead drew Roadhog from his thoughts, and a hand instinctively went to his hook. He could hear the clink of Junkrat’s grenade launcher beside him, and the rhythm of McCree’s boot spurs slowed to a halt. Roadhog stopped as well, ducking behind a corner and pulling Junkrat with him by the strap of his vest. Mei and Lena went ahead to scope the scene when the shots picked up speed. Roadhog could feel the air drop in temperature as Mei put up an ice wall blocking the main pathway just as Tracer recalled back to her side.  
“That wall’s not gonna hold for long,” Junkrat muttered as he looked around. “Come on.” Junkrat snuck away, ducking into an alleyway with Roadhog following behind him. The two snuck through alleyway after alleyway, sidestreet after sidestreet, until they came upon the enemy firing at the ice wall. Sure enough, the wall was beginning to crack. Just as the wall fell, the Orisa unit launched her shield barrier, and Junkrat winged a concussion mine into the group of enemy operatives. The explosion signalled the launch of a fight, but it was over rather quickly all things considered. The payload they had been sent out to obtain was located, and they just had to get it back to the landing pad for transport. Alone the way, Junkrat found a little music box shop, and snuck off again. He was careful enough that Roadhog hadn’t noticed Junkrat left until he was hurrying back, a bag full of items hung on his shoulder. Roadhog smiled to himself, expression hidden behind his mask as Junkrat beamed with self-pride. They made it back to the drop-off point ahead of schedule, giving the team a few hours in the city to find their gifts. They needed all the time they could get.

Back on the flight home, payload secured and loaded, the team were all in high spirits. Mei had gotten hot chocolate packets, and water was in the process of boiling to make instant-cocoa. Lena had old-timey Christmas music playing from the plane’s speaker system. The Orisa unit had even set up her boosting drum, and reprogrammed it to flash holiday colours in the center of the room.  
The team gathered around in a circle to exchange their gifts. Roadhog gave to Mei, who then presented Lena with her gift. Lena gave to the Orisa unit two gifts, one for the omnic and the other for Efi. The Orisa unit gave to McCree, and McCree gave to Junkrat with a tip of his hat. Junkrat, always one for theatrics, gave everyone except Roadhog a gift from King’s Row. Mei held a snowman music box, Lena received a gearbox designed one, and the Orisa unit was given a music box that resembled circuitry on the inside. McCree’s was a music box with a cowboy hat as a lid, and underneath was a revolver that spun as the music played. When Junkrat presented Roadhog with his gift, he did so on one knee. In his hand was a pig music box that played music after the tail was wound up. Roadhog laughed, said he liked the present, and then helped Junkrat up because the fool bent down onto the knee joint of his pegleg prosthetic.  
As the little winter party went on, and everyone was more focused on hot chocolate and festivities, Roadhog pulled Junkrat into the corner. He tipped up his mask just enough to kiss Junkrat proper. Just before he put his mask in place, Roadhog whispered with a low rumble.  
“Happy Christmas, Rat.”


End file.
